


Looking towards tomorrow

by imladrissun



Category: NCIS
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-08-17 08:30:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8137306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imladrissun/pseuds/imladrissun
Summary: Tony decides to try to get what he's quietly wanted for years.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story presupposes that the rough edges from the tv show are gone--it looks at them in a more serious manner, in a more real-life vein. The show sometimes comes too close to caricature instead of exploring the quiet depths of both of them.

Tony is way less energetic than Tim assumed. He'd assumed having Tony move in to his bigger apartment would mean chaos and craziness, but it's more the opposite. He spent most of his evenings watching Magnum PI reruns and alternates with movie classics. Outside of work, when they were just at home, he was quieter, less confident. 

He asked Tim for his opinion on things constantly, and would come sit with him when he worked on his books. Tony was seemingly content to sit slightly to the side of him, looking over his shoulder and just snuggle there, without complaint. As he worked for hours, typing. 

It was nice, but it was also a little weird. Tim had only seem glimpses of Tony's relaxed, 'real' self over the years, since most of the time they were together they'd been at work. But now, with him leading the cyber division and Tony managing a whole section of teams, things were different. They only saw each other at lunch, and even that was weird, in a new and different way -- it was more formal than Tim was used to with him. 

Tony would come down to his office, bringing food for both of them, and just sink into the nice, soft chair Tim kept in his office for visitors. It was like he finally got a moment to relax; he'd close his eyes at first, after striding in and putting the food on the edge of Tim's desk. 

The most unsettling part was when Tim realized he was just sitting there, whether they were on the couch, in his study or in bed, watching him. Unbelievably, it hadn't been Tony to make the first move. It was only after Tony overheard Abby talking to him that things became clear to Tim.

And even now, they were still somehow coming into focus. At first, Tim hadn't even really looked at Tony as a real friend, not in the reciprocal way at least. Tony seemed too into himself and oblivious to the rest of the world, in a way. 

But then, Tony had slowly spent more and more time with him, phrasing things in such a casual way that Tim didn't even realize he had become Tony's best friend until it was years later. 

When Tony overhead Abby talking to him, he had somehow misunderstood their conversation of references and code words--something they did so they could talk freely about anything they wanted. He had thought they were discussing some new women Tim had taken up with. And Tony couldn't stand it. 

Tim could see him kind of unravel the entire rest of the night, (without knowing the cause), which culminated in Tony inviting himself over to his apartment. Once there, he had made Tim sit on the couch and proceeded to disjointedly try to talk to him as they ate food Tony had just cooked. By hand.

[Tim wasn't aware he could, much less with that much delicacy and verve. And all while not looking at Tim the entire time... while nonetheless prattling on about some movie or something. .... He didn't always listen to the film jargon. Though he did get a MUBI account just to look up the more existential films Tony was obsessed with.]

Except, of course, on the couch Tony couldn't get any point across... other than the somewhat telling way that he was holding Tim's hand, and covering it with his other, in a kind of light caress. He had barely touched his food. It sat on his lap looking Michelin star perfect.

Even Tim could figure it out from there, wink wink and everything, despite Tony's reticence. What was stopping him? Tim didn't get it. Although it still didn't seem very clear from the long term perspective either--why had apparently chosen him as his latest hookup? 

It became clearer when they didn't hookup at all. It turned out that Tony just wanted to 'be' with him, spend time with him, and have long exhausting makeout sessions. This was Tony's way of 'doing it right', according to Abby's expert analysis. She had figured it all out immediately after the fact anyway. Tony confessed as much himself, after a little while anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

He wasn't exactly nervous about it, but when Tony had found out about the books, he had immediately gone out and read them all. 

[Of course, that meant using an entire Friday night to go undercover, travel, and buy them with cash in an unspecified location.]

He was already pretty far gone on Tim by then, and if he didn't like what his character was like, he knew he'd need the whole weekend to try and start getting over it. 

It turned out that Tim was kind of lying about the books--or rather, he wasn't being completely honest. He had other pennames, and other types of series of books. 

So naturally, Tony read them all. He was shocked to realize Tim had written other sets of books just on a character that was basically him--except much more noble and heroic. He could tell it was him due to a few tiny details here or there--ways of eating specific foods, movie quotes, even descriptions would sometimes have a tiny phrase that Tony instinctively knew he himself had said out loud.

One of the series had even already been made into a movie, all very Clive Cussler and Tom Clancy.

Sometimes a techie type was in there, interacting with him, but not usually. And it was so superficial. Tim--at least the real Tim, that is--didn't seem to be in the books. It made him feel a little put out, discouraged, to think they weren't even friends in the stories. If McGee wanted a deeper friendship, or an actual relationship, wouldn't that mean he'd write something like it in there?

While Tim was his favorite person in many ways, Tony did feel that one of his faults was being slow on the uptake. He did not get subtle hints, little signals or glances laden with implied meaning. He in fact was not even always listening, often multitasking on a computer or phone while speaking. It had been hard work to even be Tim's friend. He had to slowly create situations where it was only natural for him to accompany Tim to a tech conference or a meeting with publishers; Tony just manifested things out of thin air that he himself had to do at the same time, in the same place. Coincidentally.

Also, he was spying on Tim's private schedule, so he could set up coincidences. They traveled together, stayed together; it was perfect. It was everything Tony thought he wanted, until he saw one random person flirt with Tim. With a start, he realized he needed to up his game. He'd been playing the long one, but it became clear that someone else couldn't have the opportunity to take away what had become Tony's life. Tim was an integral part of it. 

With Tim, it was easy. They could hang out and he could just be himself, just rest. He talked about whatever he wanted, when he wanted; for the first time in his life, it was like there were no rules. Tim had so many interests and projects that he was always working steadily on something--a computer, a file, a book, an argument on Reddit with someone. Tim didn't try to police his interests, behavior or actions, he just rolled his eyes and thought he was quirky. Even becoming obsessed with the Dark Souls video games didn't get a reaction from Tim. It was like, if they were not in a professional setting, Tony could not surprise him in even a mild way. Tim was very laid back, to his surprise. 

He didn't care much for things like how his apartment looked, or where they went to eat, or what movies they watched at night. At the very least, Tony was saving him from a life of mediocrity. He just went along with whatever Tony insisted he had to have. From the redesign Tony enacted on his decor to going to Michelin star restaurants on special occasions, Tim just shrugged and said okay. He didn't bother to point out how little he valued those types of things, and Tony loved it. He loved that he would do it just for him. Just because he wanted fix up the study, or get a new marble counter for the kitchen. Tim apparently didn't even notice half the world around him. 

Really, how someone as smart as Tim could be so clueless about style boggled the mind. 

In a way, he suddenly thought, Tim let him figure out who he wanted to be. He gave him space, but was there as a comfort, as a listening ear. As a person who cared about him, personally. He didn't seem to value Tony for any of the things other people did, and he was left wondering why it was that Tim tolerated his living there--except for the little asides Tim gave him. He'd unconsciously say things regarding his intelligence, his creativity, his handsomeness. It was so offhand and sincere it almost made Tony flush with nerves. 

Coming from Tim, a compliment mattered. He saw the real him and still found him worthwhile. It meant something, since almost no one else ever had.


	3. Chapter 3

Tim was also the type of person to bake him a real birthday cake. One that was most definitely lopsided and a bit too average to actually taste good--but it was still the best thing Tony'd ever had. And the best present. 

Unfortunately, he had only noticed it when he returned to the apartment in shock in the middle of the day. It was the day before his birthday, he noted distantly. Usually he left before Tim in the morning, but he must have gone in late to have made it. It had crooked blue writing on a white frosting background. It was sweet, the thought that is, since he felt too numb to try the icing. 

The apartment felt empty, eerie. He had just found out his father was dead. To be honest, he didn't know what to do. Tony had driven home on autopilot. 

He looked at the cake without seeing it. It was like a creepy metaphorical representation of how the only thing he had in his life was Tim. Well, the only good thing. Everyone had always left him behind, assumed he was busy. No one ever asked him what his life at home, after work was actually like. 

It had been boring and quiet, really. He'd only had film to look forward to. With Tim, anything could happen. He sometimes wanted to go see things, visit odd shops, try some restaurant that the online world was talking about. 

In reality, Tim probably had more friends then him, if you counted how many kind young people Tim had introduced him to while on these excursions. It turned out nerd or web people were really nice. No one even said anything about how Tony wasn't on there with them, or had not much of an idea of what they were discussing.

They had a lot of slang. Tim always explained it in the car afterwards, though. Tony loved that about him, that he was willing to include him in his world, and his argot, even. 

He'd actually never been to Tim's new workplace, ever since he'd been poached by a higher agency. But he didn't know where else to go, and felt like he couldn't be alone with his thoughts. He needed Tim to distract him just by being there.

He drove to the address Tim had put in his phone for work [it was meticulously organized with tons of info; Tony had asked him to merge and share their calendars so that he could know in advance when he'd be working late on a project--he liked to plan over the top dinners and brunches sometimes. Yeah, he loved to cook for him; Tim loved to get takeout himself, which was better than him breaking into Tony's kitchen. He'd claimed it for himself.]

At his work, he was searched four separate times, questioned, examined, his ID taken, and finally led downstairs.

And then further down. 

Eventually he was escorted by an armed woman into an area that was clearly for and designed by computer people. It was half Serial Experiments Lain [yeah, he'd watched it after hearing Tim and his internet friends talk about it while out in some store] and half Ghost in the Shell [Tim had told him to watch all the movies once months ago; he had, and was waiting for a fun time to surprise him with his knowledge of it]. 

There were cooling systems and endless server boxes [he thought], cords neatly clipped together everywhere, and little things Tony recognized from haphazardly reading Tim's comic collection in secret. 

[Tim kept his issues pristine in cases; he suspected he actually read the stuff on the computer or something. He was careful to read them carefully so that Tim would never know the shelves had been touched.]

There were things referencing stuff he knew, like Game of Thrones, and things he barely knew, like Japanese comics. Tim was in a room filled with big screens, and he was standing in front of a sceptre on a blockish tall table with a bible beside it. Tim glanced at the woman who'd taken him down as if they were friends, that it was normal she be there.

Since when do hackers need armed help, he thought distantly. His feelings felt far away, to be honest.

Tim looked tired. He was leaning on his cane more than usual. The old wound that had taken him out of field duty necessitated it. Tony hadn't gotten there in time, and he still thought about it; he'd been too late. He was happy Tim was safer here in this computer fortress, though. At least there was that. But it was a cold comfort, and didn't alieviate what he knew was irrational guilt.

When Tim spotted him, he walked up silently, and led him out by the hand. Tony followed without saying anything. 

It was only occuring to him now that maybe just showing up at Tim's insanely secure job may have been a mistake, or at least an imposition. All the people they passed in the hall were either armed guards, or disconnected from the real world, pale-ish [some in skin color, some in manner], glued to keyboard types. 

The same security guard followed Tim into what appeared to be his office, and shut the door after them. Tim waved a hand at her, and she opened a door within the room, going through but leaving it open a few inches. 

Tony didn't even care. He couldn't look at him now that they were alone; he had to keep it together. He couldn't actually embarass him in public. "So... " he said, with effort. He wasn't sure where to start, which was stupid.

His dad was dead, what else was there to say?

Tim stepped up and hugged him. He could feel his cane gently touched his leg, it was weirdly reassuring. "It's okay," he murmured. "You don't have to talk if you don't want to. Have some water."

Tony pushed him back an inch, to explain things. "My father's gone; it doesn't matter. I just, I shouldn't have shown up like this--I'm surprised they let me in. Did you tell them I was okay? Or no, they must have asked you when I got here..."

Tim took his hand gently. "I told them you could come here anytime, it was on the books. I'm sorry to hear about... what happened. Do you want to go home, I can go--"

Tony recoiled unconsciously, surprised. "No, of course not, no," he said; he shook his head to himself. "I just wanted to come by," he finished weakly.

That sounded terrible, he reflected. He buried his head in his neck, pulling him close again, and shut his eyes. Tim smelled good, he always did. For someone with so little interest in fashion, looking sharp and cologne, Tony had found him to be usually adorably dishevelled, sweetly casual and so comforting.

He liked it that way; it wouldn't have fit Tim to wear Tom Ford and act like he cared about shallow things. 

Tim eventually disengaged him, put him on the couch with a blanket over him [it had some type of comic person on it, that Tony almost recognized but wasn't sure of] and found that glass of water. He pulled a little footstool over by him with a little tablet computer that sat up, and turned on some early black and white films. 

Tony appreciated it, but felt disconnected. Usually he loved watching stuff, especially early work before the Code change went into effect, but he wanted something that reflected his mood. Existential, cold, sad but emotionless. 

Tim sat at his desk working, glancing at him once in a while. When he wasn't looking Tony scrolled through everything he had on the tablet until he saw a moody, unhappy looking film poster--it was some Vampire Miyu. 

It was a cartoon, as it turned out, but it looked odd. He was feeling it. He'd have to ask Tim for actual recommendations in this vein, he mentally acknowledged, but he was too tired to do it right now.

Another security girl, not the first one, came in with a tray of food. All different things. Tim told him he should eat, but he just couldn't. Not yet.


	4. Chapter 4

Tony takes some time off work, and spends most of it loitering in Tim's office in the weird, underground tech lair he's at. 

Okay, he spends all of it there. 

He knows it's stupid, but he's never really thought about his age before. Tim is younger than him--by ten years. It hasn't really ever seemed like that, just because Tim's an obvious genius in all these areas Tony isn't an expert in. It made him seem older, really. 

He's watching a walkthrough of some video game Tim is crazy about, while laying on the couch in his office, when he makes a decision--he wants to work with him again. He's spent too much time apart from Tim. He doesn't want to have regrets, well, more of them. 

He's already wasted enough time over the years, trying to get close to him and failing endlessly. He used to make up reasons to go to his apartment, and he even got good at sabotaging his own electronics so that he could call Tim and beg, whine and plead with him to come over to his place and fix it. And he'd get him dinner for the trouble, of course.

That had been one of his only ways to hang out with him. It had been worth it.

He missed seeing him every day, all day. Tim let him have space, but be near him. He always seemed to understand that Tony needed to feel needed by him, and would often delegate anything non-tech-y to him. He put up with his rambling, his jokes, his need to talk all the time. 

Tim had never given him a hard time about it, or tried to psychoanalyze why he acted that way--he hated when people did that. He could read it all in a book himself, and had, when he was younger. 

But what could he do in this genius Hobbitville? He glanced over at Tim, where he sat at his desk. He only had about six computers around him, of various types. He was always typing, and often spoke to other people on a headset he usually wore. 

He was focused, as always. From what Tony gathered, he and other hacker people got into terrorist bank accounts and drained them, broke into email servers to give the CIA vital info, and worked with the country's allies on similar projects. There seemed to be no rules here, he'd noted absently already.

They did whatever they had to; so this had to be some type of the geek version of black ops. He looked back to his little tablet; the Uncharted 2 walkthrough he'd summoned up and put on mute kept on playing.

He did not get why Tim was into it, but by god he was going to watch all nine games--so he'd be ready to play the tenth, that came out in two months. Tim was beyond looking forward to it. If that wasn't proof of love, he didn't know what was.

He'd have to ask Tim what he could possibly do here, he thought. God, he could at least hand out the lunches, right? Tim had never made him feel stupid, or acted like he was beneath him, but the people here were clearly of that persuasion. Many of them openly treated 'average' people almost derogatorily. 

Part of him wanted to ask Tim if he could learn anything in this field and assist in some way, but let's be real. He knew he could never learn this stuff. Tim was as good with this as Tony was a walking encyclopedia of film history. And he was the best in the world, thank you very much. He knew everything there was to know about film.

Hell, he'd even found out on his last birthday that Tim had invested in MUBI for him. He'd also gotten him a ton of criterion classics that he didn't have, and had used his online contacts [friends? Tony didn't know what to call them] to find him copies of close to 'lost' films that he'd never seen.

It had been awesome. 

He didn't want Tim to keep on going, and yes it was selfish. He wanted to go forward with him, to spend his workdays with him. It had been so good. He hated being so separated from him, all day, every day. He knew it was technically referred to as co-dependent, and he didn't care. 

He was lonely; Tim had made him feel like he didn't have to feel that melancholy, dull feeling that he hated. Tim actually cared about the real him, the one that was awkward, and dorky, and made mistakes. He had seen him in those moments and still loved him, he'd never laughed at him. 

"Do you think I could be a secretary here?" he asked Tim, going for an idle tone. While he didn't take his eyes of the tons of screens they swept between, Tim didn't seem to be surprised, or dismissive, at least. 

"What do you mean? As in working with my group? Oh, you must of heard how we can't manage the paperwork. That's true, unfortunately. As a group, we're not the best with some things. If you want to liason over here, I'll make it happen. You can see what you're interested in, and go from there. If you don't like whatever it is you start doing, we'll have you try everything," he said, rushed, like he always talked when he was concentrating on his computer work. 

Weirdly, he truly could multitask, and talk to Tony while working simultaneously on stuff. Thank god he didn't look up to see him gaping at him. 

That was when he started to realize that Tim was a little more special than he'd previously known. And that he'd been playing at being an 'regular agent' on their NCIS team all these years. He'd done it only to please his father, Tony already knew. 

He just hadn't known what Tim's options actually were. And that he could have been doing this the whole time, and in a position of power. 

To his surprise, he gives him a real position as an assistant who reviews some of team's work--and he works with him all the time in it. It's only been two days, but Tony doesn't care that the other people are totally out of touch with reality, because they're nice to him.

It's just a way to show Tim they're not going to be rude to his little stupid boyfriend, but Tony loves it. He's happy to do it, and his contribution makes a difference. They don't have his perspective, or his experience of normal life, without maids, people buffering you from daily tasks, or never talking to anyone not in your workplace [on your level, even].


	5. Chapter 5

Tony was a hard person to buy presents for, he reflected. He often got him vauge film-related stuff, and read many film forums for ideas. He was so giving, in the non-tangible way, but he also did all the cooking. Tim didn't really contribute much. 

He also wasn't the best listener of all time. Other than film, and some music interests, Tony was more of a 'people' person. Tim most decidedly wasn't: he had a million things to work on, and then a ton of personal projects [it wasn't a competitive thing, he just wanted to figure something out before the guy two doors down at work did.... yeah, it was super competitive, now that he thought of it]. 

And then there was his guy. Tony was the type of person who 'appreciated' nature, but also actually did, unironically. He went to events with him sometimes, where people seemed to have known his parents, and Tony was very stiff but charming.

Well, he could tell he was stiff, it was something internal, not his behavior. It was something else, something nebulous. And yet he wanted to go. 

Tony was very much a mess of contradictions. Gregarious in public, he was all about ruminating at home. Tim wasn't like that, it would take up way too much energy to be two different people, to have a mask. He was so busy he had to focus on remembering actual stuff!

Tony had always seemed to love adventure, being social, everything. It was his wheelhouse. Tim had figured his offhand interest in getting involved with his workplace was born of a post-grief dissolution. A type of 'I can still explore my options, see' feeling. 

And then weeks had passed, and Tony hadn't made any noises about leaving. He'd actually been very engaged, and happy, with his new job--even though he was only a consultant. He didn't even manage people or have power. 

It was like Tony raced through everything at breakneck speed, and just hopped from one thing to another like it was nothing. Tim had only had his love of technology, that was it. It was his whole life, and he was fine with that. 

Well, he also had his books, but that was personal. Thank god Tony had never asked about them again, or actually tried to read them for real. He did like to use him as a type of muse-slash-main character in many of them. .... It was just convenient, that's all. 

Tony still went to fancy events with other people who looked like they played baccarat, but the part he liked best seemed to be telling Tim the story of it. He was very much into stories, oddly enough, especially with his love of recounting films almost line by line. 

He also loved watching lacrosse for some reason, and even went to games. Thankfully, he did it with Abby, who loved sports and tailgating, too. 

Tim did not. He much preferred to be happily ensconced in an air conditioned, comfortable and nice and quiet study. Actually, Tony and Abby often did things with the old NCIS people, but Tim wasn't really into it. He had wanted the experience yes, and he did respect them, but he didn't want to talk about his new job. 

Thankfully, Tony didn't push the issue, he shrugged. He'd been reading a lot of the books on Tim's shelves for some reason, which was a thing with him. He liked trying on other people's tastes and seeing how they fit on him. 

The only problem with the whole set up was that Tony was inevitably going to get bored. Really, his life was quite quiet. The most exciting thing he did was something Tony didn't even know about--the remote guidance system. 

It was basically him and his team relying help and instructions to a real life operative [who eerily resembled Natasha Romanoff in many ways, just with dark hair] in real time. Tony had seen it that first day he'd inexplicably demanded to see him at work, but he'd never mentioned it. The room had an antique bible, and a staff, to remind them [but mostly him, since he was the top dog and called the shots] that he held someone's life in his hand, and that he controlled a weapon.

And she definitely was a weapon. He had a feeling that Tony's expertise, his intuition might really help a team like his [there were several, but he and a girl down the hall from Algeria's were the best, they constantly competed for fewest casualties, least injuries to the assest in play, and fastest mission completion time]. 

The only problem was, he didn't really want to bring him into this part of his life. It got ugly, a lot. Tim had been on the line with people as they died, forcing himself past his horror to comfort them, as they bled out, crying, a world away. 

He had buried himself in his work to get through those moments afterwards, when their words rang through his head. 

There was also the fact that they were allowed to make any collateral they wanted--so anyone who unluckily was in the way of his Black Widow agent was dispatched dispassionately. 

It was the way these missions went; it was also unavoidable. He was afraid Tony wouldn't be able to accept that, really, or that... that he would turn to him and condemn him for his involvement. But he wanted to be there, depsite the negatives, and how sometimes it got so haunting that he laid awake at night as Tony snored beside him, and slept at work on his couch. 

That was pretty standard for all of them. He didn't even know how to introduce the topic to him. Tony may have seemed accommodating, but what if this was too far? He didn't want to lose him over sometime he didn't have to see. 

Even as far back as when Tony pretended to be an elf girl in a video game to talk to him, he'd gotten weirdly over-personal. Tim had kind of suspected it was him before Ziva told him. It was like having a text format and anonymity allowed him to really open up, and talk about what he thought on a wide variety of subjects. 

Tony was like that, he was poetic, he had a type of philosophic bent. Tim didn't really have his head in the clouds like that. He had to deal with the blood, locked doors, and endless audio of listening to someone fight while hoping they survived. It was a hard job, but his assets choose him over and over, so he knew he was doing right by them. They had the option to choose their tech overlord, as his Natasha liked to say; her real name was Imane.

Of course, real names weren't allowed for security purposes, so he actually called her Natasha on comms. Sometimes it was fun, especially when he helped her accomplish incredible things, rescue people, and basically be badass. 

Other times it was terrible. It was hard to listen to suffering and not turn the channel, but of course in this case it was a live feed of a real person, not tv. At least he could be there with them, and talk to them as it happened.

**Author's Note:**

> **FYI I take commissions, just message me : )


End file.
